


Tryst

by Moreena



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Stranger Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7955884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moreena/pseuds/Moreena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long bus ride home for the holidays provides a pleasant surprise for two college students.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tryst

**Author's Note:**

> Old work, circa 2010. I kind of still love what I did with this AU, even after all this time.

He stood under a single street light, in the middle of a deserted town. The last bus had dropped him here, assuring him that he would catch his connection here within an hour. The town had long been closed down, and it was apparent in the condition of the buildings. Most were boarded up or just plain falling apart. He sighed and stood with his bags around him, underneath that lone light, the sign for the Greyhound bus hanging over his head. His duffel was behind him and his laptop bag was touching one end of it, propped up by his left leg, while his messenger bag with his books and other things was touching the other end, leaning against his right leg and just touching his laptop bag. Nothing would enter unless he said they could. He’d read ‘Salem’s Lot, and the book had scared him of small run down places like this.

Before the hour had gone by, the bus indeed did pull up and the driver and another worker climbed off the bus, stretching their limbs, joints cracking from being seated for so long. He picked up his bags, pulling down his black turtleneck when it rode up, letting his jeans fall into place over his combat boots.

Trowa sighed softly as he handed over his ticket to the driver and his large duffel to another guy who asked him where he was going. 

“Making a connection in New York City,” Trowa said, sleep making his voice thick and older sounding.

The man nodded and tossed his bag among a bunch of others under a specific door and slammed it shut before re-boarding the bus. The driver ripped his ticket and stood aside to let him on. He threw his duffel over his shoulder and grabbed his laptop by the handle and boarded the bus. 

For being a middle of the night 3AM ride, the bus was surprisingly full. He made his way down the aisle, past sleeping elderly couples and parents with their children who were mostly out. He passed fellow college students on their way home for the holidays, some studying, others listening to their I-pods, and a few reading under the small light provided above every bus. Almost all the seats were full. By the time he’d reached the back of the bus, his options were down to a middle-aged woman reeking of perfume even from here, or next to a rather trim looking blonde with an I-pod and a rather large textbook, propped against the window on his arm, with a pair of black frameless glasses resting on his nose. With a smile he tossed his duffel in the little overhand compartment and smoothly sat down next to the blonde, carefully stowing his laptop between his feet, settling back into the cushion with a sigh, closing his eyes briefly.

“I’m Quatre,” the blonde said, removing his ear buds and turning to him with a smile.

Trowa opened his eyes and smiled back, reaching his hand across his body.

“Trowa, physical therapy major, junior,” he said with another smile.

Quatre nodded and seemed to chew it over in his brain for a few moments before his face seemed to brighten.

“Business and commerce major with minors in political science, and Italian, junior.”

Trowa grinned and slid down in his seat, propping his knee up against the seat in front of him and folding his hands behind his head. This boring ride wasn’t going to be so boring. Not if he and this cute little blonde had things to talk about. They spent the next few hours talking, until they arrived in a middle sized city and had to transfer busses, which they did together. They would be with each other for another five to seven hours before they finally split in D.C. to head for their relatives.

“So why Italian, and why business and commerce?” Trowa asked, offering some of the food he’d gotten in New York.

Quatre sighed and took a bite out of his sandwich, chewing methodically and swallowing before he answered the man; “Family business. My father is getting old and I’m the only son, so I have to grow up to take over, but the board won’t recognize me as the new CEO when my father dies unless I’ve graduated college. So I guess you could say that I’m just biding my time.”

Trowa felt his heart go out to the little blonde. His eyes were stunning, especially in the early rising sun, their blue depths sparkling with wisdom beyond his years that many their age weren’t ready to acquire and sometimes had to fight tooth and nail to get. His hair was just the right style of messy that all the younger businessmen were doing, and his body looked very well toned and filled out his jeans and polo quite nicely. He took a sip of his drink to hide his swallow as he felt that neglected part of him stir in his own jeans. He was so caught up in his rampant thoughts that he missed Quatre’s question. He took a breath and assumed what he’d asked.

“I could’ve done surgery, but something about the idea of seeing the insides of people just didn’t appeal to me. After reading about wars and such…” He shuddered before he continued, “and in high school I played baseball and really screwed up my knee during a game and had to have physical therapy, so it sort of changed the direction of my life.”

They sat in silence and chewed their food, finishing it and shoving their wrappers into a single bag. They settled into their seats and just sat, letting their food digest and stewing over their own thoughts. When he glanced over to look out the window, Quatre had his head propped up on his chin, a temple resting against the glass, with his other hand daintily sitting on his thigh, chest rising and falling in the soft pattern of sleep, completely oblivious to the world around him. Trowa stood and reached up for his duffel bag, placing it in his seat and reaching inside it to pull out a large deep blue fleece blanket. He re-zipped his duffel and tossed it back up. He unfolded the blanket and sat back down, tossing it over most of the blonde then tugging and fiddling with it until it covered them both.

Quatre felt a light weight settle on him but didn’t stir. He knew what it was and had to suppress a smile. He was dancing on the thin border between consciousness and slumber. He made a soft noise in his state when a comfortable weight was pressed against his shoulder. Once the movement had ceased, he chanced a look and cracked his eyes open. A mop of chestnut brown hair was pressed lightly to a pale forehead and the green of his shirt, that visible eye closed, dark lashes standing out against that still pale and flawless complexion. The man was gorgeous. He would not deny that fact. He had the definition of a man who took care of his body and wanted to look good. And he wasn’t blind. He’d been paying attention earlier when he’d had to take a fast drink, watched those intense emerald eyes flicker to his crotch before firmly fixing themselves on his face.

For the moment though, he was content to let his eyes fall closed again, and allow his body to absorb the warmth from the sun coming in the window and the man on his left side, cuddled close, dead to the world with exhaustion. It was a good way to fall asleep, he thought before his eyes fluttered closed to the point where his brain stopped trying to work.

*~*

It couldn’t have been more than three or four hours when Quatre’s eyes fluttered and his head slipped off his hand and connected with a dull thunk against the window, making his mind snap awake, into an almost panicked state before he was able to focus enough to remind himself of where he was. He looked over and couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. Trowa was still out cold, his face in an almost contented state, still pressed close. He wasn’t holding onto him or being vulgar. He was the perfect gentleman. Quatre could only hope that he wasn’t completely straight. As he sat stewing in his thoughts, the man next to him made a soft noise in his sleep and his own eyes blinked open once. As the tall brunette struggled to wake up, Quatre had a wonderfully wicked idea. He leaned over, his lips just brushing the top of the man’s ear before he spoke, voice dropped in the event that there were other passengers close.

“I want to repay you for your kindness… The fact that you’re gorgeous and you made a long trip like this much more… Enthralling.”

Without another word, both of his hands were sliding over and down the still slightly groggy man beside him, fingers making quick work of his jeans, letting out a very tiny gasp as he encountered nothing but bare flesh beneath the sturdy material, before his face lit up with a slight glow and a very broad smile. His pleasure lifted another notch when he was met with no resistance, and the waistband of those jeans was shoved to the sides before he dared to pull a slightly erect cock up and away from its warm nest of pubic hair and gave it a gentle tug, watching and waiting for the reaction he would get from Trowa.

Trowa’s body was still trying to pull itself from a sleepy fog, and he gave a little jerk when he felt his pants being opened. He turned to look at the blonde who he thought was innocent and just a perfect person, but this was the last thing he expected. His eyes grew wide, and he didn’t know whether to curse or praise his cock as it reacted to his almost expert touch. It came alive in his hand, and his hips gave a little jerk, chasing after that small warmth.

“Why?” he whispered, eyes a much brighter green with passion, voice lower than what it was normally.

Before he gave the blonde a chance to respond, his own hands had managed to work open Quatre’s jeans, and struggle through the flimsy fabric of what felt like silk boxers, and grasp his own prize. Quatre let out a soft gasp and his eyes dulled to a dark blue with the sudden pleasure. His cock was more than half hard, and longing for the touch of flesh.

“Trowa… Please, together.”

Trowa gave an evil smile and didn’t say anything, instead giving Quatre’s cock a soft jerk, letting his palm caress over the tip, smearing the small pearls of liquid to coat his palm before he slid it down over the length, grip firm and unyielding to provide the most pleasure. Quatre writhed under the touch and let his own hand loosely stroke Trowa’s cock, pausing for a moment to lean down while keeping them covered, reaching into his laptop bag and extracting a bottle of moisturizing lotion and giving Trowa a smile. He poured a small dollop into his hand and adjusted the blanket back over himself before his hand softly took hold of Trowa’s cock again, smearing the lotion over the length, silently offering the bottle to Trowa who took it in a still warm hand, putting a small amount into his palm and placing his hand back over Quatre’s very hard cock and resumed his stroking, smoothing the lotion as he went.

“I was hoping my senses were right,” Quatre whispered softly as he leaned back into his seat and let himself enjoy the bliss.

“They were very right,” Trowa whispered, rubbing his thumb over the tip of Quatre’s cock.

Quatre didn’t know what turned him on more; the thrill of doing this in secrecy, or the thrill of allowing a complete stranger to touch him and being able to touch him too, or just the touch of another man after a period of too long. He couldn’t know if it was the same for the other man, but his mind was losing focus on the unimportant things, and was taking him down a headlong path to pure pleasure. Trowa was also losing himself in everything, from the atmosphere, to the decadence to the intoxicating scent of the boy beside him.

“Quatre…” Trowa whispered softly.

Quatre couldn’t, or wouldn’t say anything, out of fear of being too loud or letting out a cry of pleasure and passion, giving them away. His hand moved up and down the shaft in his hand in a rhythmic pattern. It wasn’t meant to rush them or bring them down from the edge. His eyes were unfocused, and he didn’t know where to look. He bit his lip suddenly and tasted the sharpness of blood as Trowa squeezed his cock a bit tighter. On his own, he gave the cock he was holding a squeeze until the grip matched the one on his shaft, and began to stroke it with the same movements that Trowa was using. His body felt as if it was on fire, and part of him wished that there were different circumstances and they were doing this properly, and that there could be a possibility for more. 

“Quatre… Now, let it out now,” Trowa whispered softly, hand stroking in an increasing pace, his own hips begging to thrust up into that warm and expert hand on his shaft.

Quatre could only nod, still chewing on his lip to keep from giving them away, taking a deep breath as his back arched in a tight line as his cock seemed to grow warmer and thicker in Trowa’s grip before he was coming in short bursts, come dribbling out of the tip and down between those skilled fingers and down his length until it met the silk of his boxers and settled in. Trowa watched his face with rapture, smiling and licking his lips as Quatre’s hand tightened over the head of his cock and brought him with just that little movement, and his own cock seemed to spasm in that just perfect grip, and he was coming in thick bursts, fluid thick from his recent lack of sexual activity.

“Trowa…” Quatre whispered softly, trying to keep his breathy steady. 

He didn’t want to move, but the sprawling countryside was giving way to houses and farms spread apart and soon closer together. They were getting closer to their destination, and people would be getting off the bus, including them. And neither of them wanted to walk out in public with wet jeans. Trowa sat, contemplating what to do next , a slight frown on his face. Quatre grinned and very gently loosened his grip, keeping his fingers looped lightly over his cock, leaning down carefully and rooting around in his bag, coming up with a small pack of baby wipes, blushing at the questioning look Trowa gave him.

“On these long trips, I’m a bit of a germophobe, so I carry these around, for those just in case moments.”

Trowa couldn’t help but smile. He took the pack and extracted a wipe and cleaned his hand, pulling out another one before giving the pack over to Quatre who took one in his still come covered hand and began to gently caress Trowa’s cock, cleaning him off before he balled it up and tossed it into their food wrapper bag. He wiped his hand off quickly and blushed suddenly when Trowa took the time to carefully clean the blonde’s cock and tuck it back into his pants for him. Quatre carefully fixed himself as best as he could from a seated position and gave Trowa another smile before he sat up a bit and turned, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“I meant it. Thank you for everything. You’re gorgeous, and I’m going to miss you. Quite the conversationalist,” Quatre said with a smile before he bent over, carefully stowing all his things back into the laptop bag between his feet.

Trowa smiled at the light kiss and fixed his own jeans before he folded the blanket and stood up to put it away. He jerked and almost fell when the bus came to an abrupt stop, but managed to grab onto the seat to keep from falling. They were barely moving and stopping, which meant that they had finally entered the city, and their split was now inevitable. Trowa put his blanket back into his duffel and pulled it down, setting it in his seat. He didn’t know what to say, or do. He was like a fish out of water. Quatre just sat, looking out the window at everything as it passed by before he jumped a little, smiling over at Trowa as he reached down to his belt and pulled out a Blackberry and gave a little groan.

“Yes dad, I’m in the city now. There was traffic, I don’t know, I’ll be home in another hour and of course I passed everything. I’m not wasting your money and tell the board to shove it, I’ll be graduating on time!” he growled before he silenced the phone and turned to Trowa and gave a small chuckle with a shrug.

“My father, worrying about me and the future. I apologize for that,” Quatre said softly.

“Don’t even think about it. I’ve had those conversations before. They’re not fun or pretty, but they are necessary.”

Before either of them could say more, the driver announced that they had reached their destination, and Greyhound appreciated their business. Trowa frowned again, and Quatre grabbed his laptop bag, tossing it over his shoulder, making a slight face at the weight.

“Italian book, weighs thirty pounds just on its own I swear,” he said with a tiny smile, reaching down to pick up Trowa’s own laptop bag and handing it to him so he could step out into the aisle.

Trowa stood off to the side and allowed the blonde to grab his backpack from the overhead and followed him off the bus, neither of them saying much at the moment. Trowa couldn’t stop himself from watching the way his ass seemed to sway with each step. Once they stepped off the bus, they waited in line with the other passengers and claimed their bags. Both seemed lost in thought as they wormed their way past other travelers. Finally, the moment had arrived.

Quatre stood at the bottom of the stairs that would lead to the surface of the terminal and lead him out to the city streets where he would catch a city bus home. Trowa would remain down here, and take another Greyhound to another city. They stood, looking at each other, Quatre blushing and Trowa hunting for words to say.

“Maybe we’ll see each other on the way back, or once we’re back in New York,” Quatre said quietly; “Thank you for everything…” he stated before he adjusted his grip on his bags and stepped onto the escalator.

Trowa watched him until he was on the street before he turned and made his way to his terminal to hop on his last bus home. He gave his bags over to the driver and stepped onto the bus, flopping down onto the first double empty seat, sticking his bags in the other seat, turning to look out the window. He didn’t move until the driver called out his stop and he made his way off the bus, grabbed his bags and turned to see his sister waiting for him, leaning back against her car.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself stranger. You didn’t answer any of my calls,” she said with a smile, pulling him into a hug.

He hugged her back, because it was the right thing to do, and despite his foul mood, he did love his sister. He loaded his bags into the trunk and let himself pass out while she drove. He left his suitcases in the trunk and hauled his duffel and laptop up to the room he’d be staying at with his sister. He plugged in his laptop and turned it on, setting it up on the desk next to his bed. He went into the bathroom and changed his clothes, and when he came back, he was connected to the internet. His school mailbox had a few new messages, which he deleted; seeing that he were all from Facebook. He clicked on the little tab on his browser to take him to Facebook, and logged in. He skipped over the messages from Duo and WuFei, arching a brow at the new friend request. He clicked on it and let out a soft laugh at the blonde head of hair atop a classy looking suit in what looked like a candid shot in a business meeting or some sort of speech moment. He clicked the ‘accept’ button and smiled.

‘Quatre Raberba Winner has asked to be your friend.’

He smiled as he crawled into his bed and covered himself with the blankets, ignoring the ping from his instant messenger, letting his away message take care of it for the moment. Things were looking good if Quatre still wanted to talk to him. He smiled one last time before he allowed him self to sleep and dream of his time with the blonde, and allowed himself to dream of even bigger and better things that could happen with him.


End file.
